


An Unwelcome Invitation

by Konbini



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, non-con vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konbini/pseuds/Konbini
Summary: Mosley sees Arthur, not Lizzie, in the hall.
Relationships: Arthur Shelby/Tommy Shelby, Oswald Mosley/Arthur Shelby
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	An Unwelcome Invitation

"I expect Adventure." He'd told Thomas Shelby.

They were two men for whom forbidding was forbidden. Surely Thomas Shelby could come up with something more than this?

This being drugs and brandy and maids. It was...irritating, to be sure, and - underwhelming. It certainly did not live up to his expectations but then things rarely ever did.

In fact Mosley was about to call the evening a write off when their little family scandal broke out. But oh - that wasn't what interested him. Familial strife and scandal. As ill bred as their blood. No. No it was the man's brother.

Poor Old Arthur Shelby.

That's what Mosley had called him.

The image of him crouched, knees on the hard floor, cradling the head of someone who so blatantly hated him while crying pathetically made Mosley take notice.

Hearing him croon softly, "Linda I would have taken your bullet. I deserve the bullet." with real conviction is what made Oswald go hard in his pants.

When Thomas had ordered him out and Arthur had gone to aim a gun on him Oswald could hardly hold back a curious amusement. He found he couldn't be afraid. He knew exactly what the man was now.

And he was exactly to Mosley's tastes.

Later, Mosley says, "I'm going to fuck the swan. Someone go and tell her to come to my room."

"How do you know she'll come?" The Gypsy-fucking-Queen asks.

"Because they always do."

He doesn't ask for Arthur though. He knows Thomas Shelby's stance on queers - the reporter proves that much and for what it's worth Oswald agrees. Oswald isn't a queer, it could be that Arthur isn't even a queer. But -

But.

Oswald fucks who he pleases. He is very much the exception to the rule. And he very much wants. Only he isn't there yet. The man might not let him between his legs.

Yet.

He does indeed fuck the swan. Hard. Punishingly.

And he thinks of Arthur crying, 'I'd take your bullet' coyly as he does. He certainly has something he wishes the man to take.

It's these lancing-hot thoughts that are probably to blame for his little...indiscretion. His miscalculation.

He sees Arthur in the hall, still wet eyed, and - well.

Just maybe Thomas Shelby has discovered his weakness after all.

The hall is quiet when Arthur reaches the top of the stairs. His mind isn't, bullet still ringing in his ears.

Linda is resting in the library.

It would have been a kindness.

The words torture the very heart of him. He knows them to be true. Isn't that why he had shut his eyes? He deserves it, doesn't he?

He's in a daze maybe and that's why he doesn't notice the man until he's almost on top of him. He's startled when Mosley appears by the banister, catches at Arthur's arm with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The man still smells of sex, his shirt is still open and Arthur recoils before he can rethink it.

"Mr. Mosley." He says, keeping his tone in check. Tommy gave him strict orders.

And Arthur has screwed up enough already.

"Poor Old Arthur Shelby." Mosley says, voice low and a twinkle Arthur doesn't like in his eye.

"What's it to you." Arthur bristles.

Beyond Mosley the bedroom door is open. A discarded ballet costume - the swan - lies on the end of the bed. Mosley watches as Arthur takes it in before his eyes skate away.

"Do you like her? The swan?" Mosley asks.

Arthur only scowls.

"Surely, as a man who has just faced death, you must be feeling that strange impulse that comes with finding yourself alive?"

Maybe Arthur does feel it, the relief he doesn't deserve because really - Linda should have shot him after all. Arthur doesn't say anything but maybe something comes over his face. Something like shame at feeling it, shame at finding himself alive at all.

"Oh." Mosley exclaims breathlessly, eyes pinning him.

"Fuck you." Arthur says shortly, embarrassed Oswald Mosley seems to have divined his thoughts.

The man only smiles, cat like. So self assured and casual, as he was in Tommy's office. Arthur spares a thought to worry about the kinds of men Tommy is getting in business with.

Arthur moves away then - all he wants is to be left alone - but Mosley moves fast to block him, to be in his way so completely that he can't leave.

"Would you like to fuck her?" Mosley invites with a slick twist of his mouth.

"No!" Arthur spits, nearly stutters on the words in outrage, "My wife if lying in the library and -"

"Pity." Mosley cuts him off to show his lack of care, as if he knows the conclusion anyway, "the ballerina and I were wondering whether perhaps you might join us."

Arthur sputters there for a moment and Mosley uses the opportunity to change his position a little and crowd him against the banister. Behind which is a steep drop.

Dangerous, that.

"If I told Tommy..." Arthur warns, stomach revolting as the rail protests against his weight.

Mosley isn't really doing anything, just firmly holding Arthur there - but the threat is clear. Arthur can't make sense of the invitation but Mosley's actions at least he can parse.

"You don't really believe he'd do anything." Mosley smiles, slimy like, moves closer, "He wouldn't jeopardize our relationship."

It smarts because it's true. What would Tommy really do? Laugh at him maybe. Or even rail against Arthur himself. There's really no telling, Tommy has been so unpredictable as late.

"Maybe not." Arthur admits stupidly.

He really didn't mean to say it.

Mosley chuckles and increases the pressure.

Arthur is bewildered. Mosley is extremely close now. Arthur can smell the man's aftershave. Beyond the threat just what, exactly, is the man doing? Trying to make him uncomfortable maybe? Because surely some Prima Ballerina does not actually want him and what business does Mosley have offering her anyway?

"I see you still don't quite get it." Mosley says, "Rather dim, aren't you?"

But though he says it, it doesn't seem to deter Mosley. The insult lands as intended though, Arthur's mouth twists into a frown. Mosley leans in and the fall is so near. He could pitch Arthur over the rail in an instant. The air feels weighted with the danger. Arthur should - something. Should hit him or yell at him or something. Only it's something else is the thing. Arthur doesn't know what but he feels...out of depth. Hunted. Chills across his spine. He leans away, stomach fluttering, and it's not like he could fight this man anyway. Not without Tommy's permission.

And Tommy calls this man the Devil. Arthur remembers that, abruptly.

Arthur retreats, leans back over the railing, and Mosley follows until they're pressed fully together, inch to inch, against it.

"W-what are you..." Arthur's voice has dried in his throat.

Does the man really mean to kill him? In Tommy's own house? He pointedly doesn't ask himself what's in Mosley's pocket.

Mosley shifts then and presses a thigh between his legs and presses up and up.

Arthur makes some sort of strangled noise.

"You see...it wouldn't be the ballerina between us." Mosley says, quietly in his ear, panting, "it'd be you in the middle."

Arthur heats at the suggestion. Feels shame slam into him at the sudden spark low in his stomach.

The man's hands are on him and he's in his space. His breath is fanning Arthur's cheek. Both of them leaning over the railing.

Arthur goes to push at him then but Mosley catches his wrists. For a man so dandy-looking the strength behind his grasp is deceptive and Arthur twists in it. Every second Arthur is afraid he might fall.

"Come on." Mosley says softly, grabs at Arthur behind his knee and hikes.

The fall is a long way and the way Arthur latches on is all instinct.

Arthur is out of breath with terror. His leg is hooked, hiked up the man's waist. His hands fisting tightly in the man's shirt. If he falls he'll die.

"Don't you want to fall?" Mosley asks him.

The man drinks up the conflict in Arthur's face with something like greed.

"Oh I really wouldn't let you. It'd violate the agreement. But there's something else I have that you could fell yourself on." Mosley's words are quiet and steady for a suggestion so licentious.

Arthur actually gasps.

"Then maybe...one day..." Mosley says, as he rearranges them, rights them a little, brings himself squarely between Arthur's legs.

Mosley's desire frightens Arthur. It's not the first time Arthur's seen a man enamored of death. Other soldiers. But to be the object of desire makes Arthur quake. To have it pressed against him.

Then, Tommy is in the hall.

And then, Oswald rolls his hips against him.

It's the worst moment, really. But also - Tommy is here to save him.

Arthur quickly dispels that notion though when Tommy opens his mouth to snarl - not at Mosley, no, but at him.

"Arthur."

The word encapsulates something like rage and it makes Arthur's head go fuzzy.

Mosley casually disentangles them until Arthur's feet are solid beneath him once more.

"Go wait in my office." Tommy says with piercing gaze and an unforgiving edge.

Arthur's legs shake on his way past.

It isn't like Tommy doesn't know.

Arthur is...well, something rather Arthur-like.

He's always been fragile, always a little sweet like a woman. He's always needed guidance. He's always needed Tommy. Tommy to take care of things, to square them away when they're too much for Arthur. And Tommy has done a pretty good job of it, hasn't he? He's the glue that holds Arthur together. He's the one to take his brother into his arms and reassure him.

And of course Tommy has always suspected that Arthur has unusual needs. Although he's always expected they were taken care of in a solitary matter. He'd always thought he wouldn't mind if they weren't. It surprises him that it isn't the case.

To see that. What Tommy has walked into makes his blood boil hotly. He feels out of control in a way he hasn't felt since Grace. He feels sick in the pit of his stomach in a way he hasn't felt since Charlie almost walked out into a mine pit. More outrage than finding out Mosley had fucked Lizzie.

Him and Mosley glare hotly at each other.

There aren't any words spoken between them though.

They understand that they need each other.

Still, Tommy feels the smugness of Mosley behind his back and feels almost certainly that the man's gotten one up on him.

And it's Arthur's fault.

Arthur is waiting for him in his den. He's on the sofa, liquor splashing in his glass as he swishes nervously.

"Tommy-" he says, contrite, but Tommy doesn't let him finish.

"The family whore are you now?" Tommy spits, ugly-like.

It's not fair and he realizes that. He hadn't had this reaction with Ada, after all. Though Ada hadn't been consorting with a fascist. Arthur's eyes go wide and wounded.

"Fuck." Tommy says and shakes his head.

Arthur always does this to him. With those eyes of his. Like he needs to be sheltered.

"And in the hall." Tommy continues, poisonous "where anyone could see you. Were you going to let him fuck you over the banister? In my home of all places?"

"Tommy!" Arthur's shocked, and he seems to be getting angry now too.

"Our mortal enemy, an evil fucking man and you were going to just - "

"I was not!"

Their argument is getting rather loud now. It could be that Mosley will hear the noise. Or Lizzie.

Tommy finds he doesn't care.

The blatant lie Arthur spits rankles Tommy though.

"Oh, you weren't?" Tommy asks softly, like just for a moment he believes him.

And he gets closer then, closes in on him like a big sleek cat, a panther or a lion.

Arthur edges back uncomfortably just as Tommy pounces.

Tommy pushes him against the wall.

Arthur goes timidly. Guilty like when he might otherwise of fought back.

"It wasn't like that Tommy." Arthur says, sincere.

Tommy wishes he could believe that. If it were true though Arthur's temper would be showing.

"Oh, it wasn't, ey?" he says and then he hikes one of Arthur's legs up abruptly in a parody of the scene he'd walked in on. "You weren't acting a stupid whore, desperate to get some fascist cock in you?"

Arthur kicks at him briefly but Tommy stops that with naught but a look.

"Tommy it wasn't like that." Arthur says wildly, pleadingly. Brows knitting into concern even as he's being manhandled, "a-and I'm not - "

Tommy presses in and revels in the warmth of being encased between Arthur's legs.

Arthur's flushed and he looks away, like he doesn't want to meet Tommy's eyes.

"Liar." Tommy whispers, leans further in, "Caught you like this. Does this really feel like nothing?"

Arthur makes some kind of short noise in his throat. Titillating.

"Tom." Arthur pleads, swaying a little, "I swear to God....you're bad. Like Lizzie said. You need to stop...y-you haven't been sleeping Tommy. Your minds not right. You told me not to let him inside my head...Tom don't let him in yours."

The pure earnestness affects Tommy for less than a few seconds before he chuckles bitterly to himself. Of course he wants to believe him. And that's exactly why he can't.

"How did he...? Oh right, he thrust against you like this right?" Tommy grunts as he does it and presses his fingers into the knobs of Arthur's spine. Arthur's knees go weak, his weight beginning to collapse onto Tommy.

"Tom- I - he - you know I would never - " Arthur is a pleading mess as Tommy rolls his hips again.

"You'd never? And yet here you are Arthur." Tommy murmurs, rolls his hip again as Arthur's twitch back.

Arthur's eyes are glassy, cheeks flaming, something hard answering Tommy's own hardness. His mouth hangs open in silent pants.

Quite suddenly Tommy realizes what a fool he is.

This is Arthur, aroused.

Helpless.

Tommy's walked in on him fucking before. But he wasn't like this. He was single minded upon the lady's pleasure, rutting, but he hadn't been...wanton. Aroused. Not like this.

And certainly not with Mosley.

It's a moment - but just a moment - where Tommy considers not rectifying his mistake. Considers saving face, disgracing Arthur and calling him a stupid whore again and telling him to never let it happen ever again.

It's a very shameful moment.

Tommy's anger falls away from him and his rationality comes flooding back. It's rare. It's rare that he loses it.

Arthur trembles beneath him. panting. Caught between fear and a forced state of arousal.

Tommy steps back, straightens his waistcoat. It takes a moment before Arthur follows suit. He clasps his hands in front of himself to hide his reaction from Tommy and it makes something twist inside Tommy's chest.

"I-I'm sorry." The apology is stunted and unnatural. It's not often Tommy's had to apologize and he doesn't have much practice in it, "I-I think Lizzie might be right."

It's absolutely a cowardly way out. A way for Tommy not to take responsibility for his actions. Arthur welcomes it immediately.

"It's okay Tom, y-you haven't been yourself." Arthur's expression is still cautious and concerned, embarrassed, frightened, "I should check on Linda."

Arthur's voice is off, strangled like.

"So he...Mosley, he..." Tommy starts, because he should say it so Arthur knows, "I'll punish him for touching you like that."

Arthur only makes some sort of choked off noise before he flees the room.

Tommy knows why.

Because he'd failed to do so with the Russians but more than that who does that leave to punish Tommy himself?

Arthur doesn't mean for it to happen.

He's...in a state. He makes it to his guest room without further molestation. And he doesn't even...

His hands may belong to the devil but he doesn't even touch himself. He swears he doesn't.

And maybe that's worse.

He cums hard in his trousers before he's even made it in to bed, biting his bottom lip and whining like a dog.

He would tell himself it's not Tommy - of course it's not Tommy - but then that would leave Mosley and when did that become the worse option?

Tommy doesn't drink a drop, doesn't sleep a wink. This isn't something that can be left waiting.

Lizzie would tell him he's had a wake up call.

Tommy allows the hours to pass solely not to disturb Arthur's rest. He doesn't deserve to intrude upon it. He patrols the house for any signs of Arthur's wakening. It's on his third round when he hears Arthur whispering sweet nothing to a sleeping Linda in the library.

He stops immediately when Tommy comes into view.

"I'd like to speak with you Arthur."

Arthur's face goes red and he looks everywhere in the room but Tommy.

"Now, Tom?" he asks.

"It shouldn't wait." Tommy hopes he's portraying that he is calm and rational and back in control of himself. "It doesn't have to be the study."

Arthur immediately bristles at the well-intended sympathy.

"I'll meet you in your office just as soon as I'm done here."

Tommy leaves, wonders how long it'll take before Arthur gathers the nerve to come or if he'll have to come back and retrieve him himself.

It's less than twenty minutes in the end.

Arthur seems uncomfortable alone in a room with him, but not scared. Tommy tells himself it's a good sign but still, he stays seated at his desk while Arthur stands, hovers nearer the door.

"Arthur, I will never do that to you again. Touch you like that, without your permission."

Not only do Arthur's cheeks go positively red but nearly the rest of him as well.

"We've been over that Tom, no need to say anymore." Arthur's eyes beg him not to.

But Tommy can't.

"I should have listened. It's always been you Arthur that I could trust. Always you. Even with...the black cat dream. It never crossed my mind to doubt you, not even thinking you'd..."

He falls silent. Arthur doesn't deserve to have such words spoken about him. 

He shouldn't continue.

But he thinks of Arthur with another man - any man - and he can't not say it.

"The way I reacted Arthur was inexcusable." Tommy's throat clogs and he has to clear it before he can continue, "I was...jealous. The thought of you - not just with him, but with any man - I can't bear it..."

Arthur goes pale as a sheet, looks properly shamed. Tommy continues before Arthur gets the wrong impression,

"If you ever are tempted Arthur...don't think that I wouldn't, if you wanted me to. If you let me."

Arthur doesn't respond directly of course but there's a widening of his eyes, a flush to his face and a certain flutter to his eyelashes that Tommy finds pleasing.

When Mosley leaves in the morning he pauses by the carriage door, looks back. Now he can see what's got McCavern all worked up.

"An evening with a tribe of fucking gypsies." He says disdainfully, full of plans.


End file.
